Debt
by Chellero
Summary: After she's framed and saves Elias, the team works to extricate Carter from the ties that bind. Carter/Reese.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Many thanks to wolfmusic218 for forcing-uh, I mean, gently nudging me back into writing. :P Thanks for the encouragement as always, girl. :)_

"Detective Carter?" Elias couldn't help but be impressed. Apparently she lived by her own special code, too. "What a funny old world." He looked around briefly before inquiring, "Where are we going?"

Carter shook her head, unsure of that herself. "I don't know." What she did know was that they couldn't stay here. She needed some time to regroup. Think. She'd accomplished what she set out to do: prevent a murder. And fuck with HR in the process. But the intended victim and her own personal circumstances were going to make the fallout a lot more complicated. She sighed. She should have just gone home. Figured out how to get out of the frame job and how to begin to bring HR down once and for all. She should have accepted that it was Elias' fate. That his chickens were coming home to roost, and everybody he'd ever harmed or killed was going to get justice. That he was going to pay for kidnapping her son.

She should have left well enough alone.

And not slept for the rest of her life.

She could end this right now. Call for back up and tell the truth. Hope that back up wasn't in HR's pocket and they believed she received an anonymous tip about what was going to go down and she stopped it. Hope that the trouble she was already in wouldn't raise more questions than she had answers for. Hope that HR wouldn't put an even larger target on her back knowing she foiled their plans and sure as hell wasn't going to sit back and allow them to frame her.

But hope wasn't going to cut it. Not this time. They threatened her son. She sighed as she turned the key in the ignition. She needed to go someplace to think.

* * *

She pulled into a dank and probably rank motel, intending to check in under a fake name and use the cash she stashed before she began this suicide mission. Climbing out of the driver's seat, she opened the back door opposite Elias. He had been thankfully quiet for the duration of the drive and she suspected the wheels were turning in his head as well. Always calm and methodical, she was fairly certain he wouldn't do anything rash, not at the moment anyway, but an idiot she was not. His hands still cuffed in front of him, she pulled out another pair of handcuffs and looped them through the ones around his hands. He didn't put up any resistance as she nudged him forward so she could fasten the second pair of cuffs around the metal bars attaching the headrest to the seat. Without a word, she donned the sunglasses, grabbed her bag, and calmly entered the motel lobby entrance. Sure it was night time, sure whoever was working the desk would look at her funny, but the less people who could point her out before she came up with a game plan, the better.

Without bothering to check out the room, Carter used the cover of darkness to usher her prisoner inside. Fortunately it was late enough that no one was around to notice the bright orange prison jumpsuit. Turning on the light, she closed and locked the door behind them and slowly walked toward the dresser, dropping her bag onto it.

Elias took a few steps into the room, maintaining enough distance not to be thought of as a threat. "How long are we staying here?"

She turned around and faced him. "I haven't figured that out yet. But not long."

She watched as he nodded slightly. "I can call my people and be out of your hair- "

"No. You're not going free. You still need to pay for your laundry list of crimes." She ignored the hypocrisy staring her in the face. She ignored all she'd done for her partner. And John Reese. She watched as he nodded again in what appeared to be acceptance and acquiescence.

"So, then, take me back."

She stared at him for several seconds before she responded. "It's not that simple." It wasn't. But how she wished it was. Even though it was the safest place for him, and where he belonged, it wouldn't stop HR or the Russians from trying again, and making everything she'd just done moot. Even if he did deserve it. The justice system existed for a reason. There was no place for vigilante justice. She closed her eyes, ignoring the hypocrisy once again.

But, she realized, it may end up being out of her hands. There was no way in hell she was letting him go free, regardless of the fact that he was still running his criminal empire from behind bars. She was going to have to seriously consider simply taking him back and letting his people protect him there. Of course, that meant there could be more "prison transfers" in his future.

Fucking HR. They were threatening her and had her protecting the asshole who kidnapped her son. They needed to be taken down. She knew she wouldn't be able to do it alone. But enough was enough. Her son in danger again? That was a fucking wrap.

Pushing herself from the dresser, she pulled her phone from her pocket. She needed to make a phone call.

* * *

At the knock on the motel room door, Carter went to look through the peephole. Seeing her partner, she quickly opened the door and let him in. She watched as he stepped in and eyed Elias lying flat on his back on one of the beds, his right arm cuffed to the headboard. She took a deep breath and smiled at Lionel tiredly, grateful to have another set of eyes and ears. And brain power. It was two o'clock in the morning and hers was almost totally spent.

Not bothering to acknowledge Carter's- or, rather now, their- prisoner, he followed her to the bathroom where she closed the door just enough to give them some privacy while allowing them to see what Elias was or wasn't doing. She'd apologized to him for waking him up over the phone and gave away nothing, only that she needed an assist and would text him the address. Knowing it was damn near two in the morning, he figured it was serious and plucked himself out of bed and out the door in no time.

Cutting to the chase, Carter explained the immediate situation- the attempted murder of the mob boss- before explaining why she couldn't simply take him back to the prison. For one, if she brought him back in, the Russians and HR would know she was the one who shot their people and ruined their plans, and they'd come gunning for her. The Russians would put a bullet in her head in no time. At least with only HR after her, she stood the slightest chance of living to see another day as they would have to make sure her murder didn't point in their direction before making their move. She was between a rock and a very hard place.

"So I'll take him back. Anonymous tip or something. Say his people helped him escape and the tip led me to him." Fusco tried to come up with a scenario- any scenario- where Carter's involvement wouldn't come up, even if it put his ass on the chopping block. They'd never spoken about it, he had yet to find a way to bring it up, but he knew it had been her. He knew she'd been the one to move Stills' body. He felt he owed it to her to get her out of this mess.

"Then they'll come after you."

"They're always after me, Carter."

"And what about him?" She indicated with a nod of her head their prisoner. "How do we get him to go along with it? If we say he escaped, it's just gonna add more time to his sentence. He's not going for that."

"Alright, then we go with the truth. Except it was me. I got an anonymous tip about the execution, I followed the truck, busted up the party. You, me, whoever it was, it don't make a difference to him." He jerked his head in Elias' direction. "We get him back in. HR'll be too wrapped up in trying to find the leak, the Russians'll break the alliance..."

Carter shook her head. It sounded good on paper but there were two big concerns: her partner's safety and the fact that it would be a temporary fix. Even if the Russian mob and HR had a falling out, they would still find a way to take Elias out, not to mention the all out war she was sure was coming between Elias' people on the outside and the Russians. She had stepped into more of a clusterfuck than she could have imagined. She would've normally felt bad for having the thought but she was wishing she had never bluejacked Terney's phone and learned about the assassination. Because in this case, what she knew was going to hurt her. One way or another. "What about you, Fusco? What if they figure out you're the 'leak?'" She shook her head. "I'm not about to get you killed because of what I did. Nobody's ever going to stop trying to kill him." She sighed heavily. "I may have saved him this time but you know there'll be a next time. It's the life he chose."

Fusco sighed as he studied his partner. It was a risk he was willing to take. Loyalty and past mistakes would always have to be paid for. If this was his time to pay up, he would. Getting her to go along with it, though, was another story altogether. "What about that next time, Carter? You ain't gonna be able to babysit him forever. You did what you could. He did choose this life. And tried to take yours. I take him back and whatever happens happens." He watched as she swallowed, considering his words and not liking them. "Listen, you should try to get some sleep. I'll keep watch, give him his bathroom break. We'll nail this down in the morning."

In the morning. That was another thing. How would they explain all the time that has passed if they went with the truth? "How do we explain getting him back to the prison in the morning when all of this went down last night? Tonight? Whatever." It had been a long damn 24 hours.

"We'll figure it out. You gotta try to get some sleep so you can think."

She shook her head once again. "I'm not going to be able to sleep." She hadn't even gotten to telling him what had happened the night before with the shooting, the threats, and her suspension. All of which happened while he was conveniently away on a case.

"Well at least rest your eyes while you think." At her nod, he ushered her out the bathroom and sat in one of the chairs by the table while she climbed into the other bed. He watched as she stared at the ceiling, wondering where Glasses and Wonder Boy were while all of this was going down. Wondering if she'd even bothered to tell them. They received help from both Carter and him constantly, but they knew to ask for it. John and Finch couldn't help them if they didn't know. But if Carter hadn't brought them in on this, he was sure she had her reasons. He'd ask her about it in the morning, if she managed to fall asleep.

* * *

Finch and Reese entered the library the following morning after having surprisingly received a new number from the Machine since returning to New York. Settling down in a chair with a cup of coffee and the day's newspaper, Reese began flipping through the pages as Finch resumed his familiar position in front of his computer screens to see what or whom the emancipated Machine had brought to their attention. And why. Bear settled onto his bed and waited as well, things seemingly back to normal in his world.

"I've got a name, Mr. Reese. Clarence Redmund. Thirty-two. Married..." Finch's voice trailed off as he proceeded to type, trying to gather more basic intel to determine if this person was legitimate and not another one of the Machine's attempts at self-preservation. Things were more than a little uncertain now, now that the Machine had reset itself and had, just before its reboot, been giving them less than enough time to help or stop the people it chose.

Continuing to wait until Finch gave him something to go on, Reese sat up in his seat as his eyes scanned over an article. It was short, pictureless, in the far right margin of the current page. About an NYPD detective under investigation for shooting and killing an unarmed suspect. The name was withheld but the cop's age, tenure, and placement on the Homicide Task Force were printed. Those facts, along with the unmistakable feeling in his gut, led him to a singular conclusion. One he did not see coming and one he hoped was entirely wrong.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out his phone and dialed Carter's number. It rang several times before it went to voicemail. The feeling intensified. He dialed Fusco next.

* * *

Fusco looked at his phone's caller ID and hesitated. Carter was in the bathroom. She had slept fitfully for about an hour at some point during the night, and he hadn't yet had a chance to ask her why she wasn't utilizing the massive resources that came with Glasses and his sidekick. Those two owed her. Hell, all of them did. He knew he probably shouldn't have but he answered. They might just need some information and Carter's name wouldn't come up. Or he might decide to bring her up for her own damn good. They could probably handle this on their own but Finch could make things a hell of a lot easier. "Yeah?"

"Where's your partner?"

It was Mr. Happy, being his normal, happy self. Fusco was kind of hoping it would be Finch. He would've been easier to deal with this damn early in the morning. "Uh," He glanced toward the closed bathroom door. "She's with me. Why?"

"Is she in trouble?"

Fusco kept his sigh to himself. They already knew. "She ain't on a trip to Disney Land, I'll tell you that."

"Where are you?"

Fusco proceeded to give him the address and room number, hearing the click as Reese wordlessly ended their call. He turned to look at Elias who was sitting up quietly against the headboard with his head leaning back and his eyes closed. Fusco's attention was turned to the bathroom as the door opened and Carter stepped out. He figured he'd better warn her and didn't waste any time. "We got company coming."

Both Carter and Elias turned to look at him. By the look in her eyes, she already knew who. Anger didn't accompany the expression on her face. There was that at least. Resignation, though, did.

Rising from his seat, he walked over to Elias to ready him for his bathroom break, leaving Carter to her thoughts.

* * *

Reese set the newspaper down in front of his friend and partner after he hung up with Fusco.

Quickly scanning the article John pointed to, Finch met his eyes, the article explaining the terse phone call he'd overheard. "Fusco's with her at the Chadwick Motel in Queens." And with that, Reese exited the library, leaving Finch to follow up on the number they had received.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, there was a sharp rap on the door. Fusco glanced at Carter sitting at the table across from him. He started to get up but stopped as she rose and went for it.

Joss knew John wanted to help. That was what his whole damn life was about. And she couldn't help but feel relieved that he was here. He was good. Damn good at what he did. But he was also busy the last time she spoke to him, and uninterested in stopping Elias' murder. She figured she was on her own, with Fusco. But he or Finch had gotten wind of something and she'd have to accept the help at this point. Superwoman she was not.

Checking through the peephole before opening the door, she stepped aside and let him in. She watched as he closed the door behind himself and looked at her before his eyes fell on the bright orange prison jumpsuit in his periphery. His expression changed from quiet anger to confusion and downright fury. Wordlessly, he took hold of her upper arm, opened the door, and led her out, his loose grip not matching the pulsating energy radiating from his body. She let him lead her to the room next door, standing by his side as he used a bump key and the butt of his gun to open the door. How he'd known it was unoccupied was beyond her. Why he'd dragged her from their room was beyond her, too. Whatever they planned, Fusco needed to be in on it, too.

Ushering her through the now open door, Reese followed and closed and locked the door behind them. The shades were drawn so he flipped the light switch before turning his attention her. He'd known she was in some kind of trouble involving a shooting. And whatever it was, even if she was guilty as sin, he was going to get her out of it and back behind her desk. He'd also known she was looking into a possible premeditated murder attempt on Elias, in spite of the mob boss succeeding in kidnapping her son and nearly succeeding in taking her life. But to walk into that motel room just now and see him sitting there? That he was not expecting. He kept his voice measured and calm but he was sure she could detect the admonishing tone buoying his words. "I thought I told you to keep your head down."

"Like you did?"

She detected it all right.

"What happened?"

She turned away from him then, rubbing her forehead and sighing heavily as she took a few steps into their hijacked room. "A lot happened."

"Okay. Start at the beginning. Who set you up and why didn't you tell me?"

She turned back around. She was trying to remain calm but his tone was making her angry. Her professional life was in shambles, her child had been threatened, and she'd gotten into the middle of a mob war to save the first person who'd threatened her son. And John's patronizing tone was threatening to pull on that lone thread keeping her from unraveling. "You were busy. Doing something you didn't trust me enough to help you with."

He inhaled sharply. He deserved that. Trying to soften his delivery, he continued to try to get more information out of her. "Who set you up?"

"Terney. HR."

"How?"

"A bad shoot. Terney tells me they got a lead on Cal's shooting. We show up, Terney's behind me the whole time, the unis spread out, guy comes out with his gun ready to fire, I fire first."

"Then what?"

"Then what? I should've stayed with the damn body, that's what. IAB shows up and says there was no gun."

"Terney took it."

She shook her head. "No. He was actually with me the whole time. It was Baisden. First name is Ryan, I think. Has to be. I recognized him from the HR sting last year. He was one of the ones they let go."

Reese took another deep breath, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. He was having difficulty keeping it from showing on his face. "This was two nights ago, Joss. When I spoke to you yesterday, why didn't you tell me you were in trouble?"

"If I recall correctly, John, you had to go because my brethren were after you."

"I don't care if I'm in the middle of taking my last breath, you tell me when you're in trouble." Sighing again, he kept at it. By the looks of the company in her room, there was a hell of a lot more to get to. "Elias."

It affected her. What he'd just said. What he was now glossing over by continuing to interrogate her. But she let it go. "When they had me in the box, Terney comes in and tells me I'm going down for the murder, and if I didn't go down quietly he was going to kill Taylor." She watched as he swallowed. "They were going to kill my son, and Fusco if I brought him in on it. He got a phone call, I used that app you guys use, and I heard him talking about taking Elias out."

"So you followed him."

"They arranged a prison transfer. I followed them out to those woods off of 47. It was Terney and Yogorov. I clipped both of them and brought Elias here. Maybe he deserved it but I wasn't going to be able to sleep letting it happen."

Reese nodded. "Did they see you?"

"Of course not."

"What are you planning?"

She shook her head and sighed heavily. "I'm gonna have to take him back but I need to know what Terney's story is. How he's explaining his wound. _If_ he's explaining it. And what the prison guards doing the transfer are telling the marshals."

Reese watched her silently, her eyes telling him all he needed to know. She hadn't thought this through. She'd just acted. It was familiar to him. But she'd really stepped in it this time. And he would get her out of it. "Now don't argue with me. You're going to get Taylor and you're going to stay in a safe house until- "

"I'm not staying in a- "

"Don't argue with me."

"Who do you think you- "

"Don't argue with me."

She shook her head incredulously and laughed, beginning to walk past him on her way out the door.

He grabbed her upper arm. "Do not argue with me."

That time, something in his eyes shut down her vocal cords. Completely.

Releasing her arm, Reese walked over to the door and opened it, holding it until she walked through. She followed behind him silently as they took the short trek back to her room. After Fusco let them in, John wasted no time in searching the room for her things. Fusco watched as he moved around the small room. "What's the plan?"

"Stay here." Reese turned to Carter, her feet planted just inside the door, arms folded across her chest. He lifted the black bag she'd brought. "Is this all you brought?" When he realized she wasn't going to give him an answer, he turned to Fusco. "I'll be back." He figured Lionel would notice he didn't say "we" and know that the immediate plan included stowing Carter away somewhere where she wouldn't be found. "Don't let him out of your sight."

Fusco frowned. "Yeah, I was gonna toss him the key and head out for sushi."

Grabbing Carter's arm once more, Reese shouldered her bag, turned her, and escorted her out the door.

Fusco turned to Elias, certain the mob leader was mulling over the turn of events.

Elias had learned a lot just now while sitting quietly, being the good prisoner. He hadn't made it this far being unable to read people, situations. Being unable to make connections. He'd known for awhile John was associated with the detective professionally. Illegally. But who was he to judge? It wasn't until John had taken her son back from his clutches that he realized the association was more personal, eventually tying John back to the revocation of permission he'd been granted to permanently remove Detective Carter from his list of nemeses. He had taken her son and taunted her that she was all alone when all the while she knew she wasn't. All the while she knew John was working to get her son back. All the while she had placed her complete faith in the vigilante and refused to back down. In hindsight, he should have known.

And he'd just seen what he needed to complete the puzzle. He shook his head, his mouth turning up at the corner. John, the former killer, current savior, had an Achilles' heel. "Opposites do attract, don't they, Detective Fusco?"

Fusco didn't humor him with a response. He was a perceptive bastard. But Carter and Wonder Boy had a lot more in common than the crime lord knew.

* * *

"What'd you drive?" Reese asked the quiet woman in his grip as they walked toward the equally quiet parking lot. He followed her line of sight as she pointed toward a black SUV. "Keys?" He watched again as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a single key linked to a single key chain. Carmax Rentals. She'd at least thought that much through. Grabbing the key from her, he led her to the SUV, opening the passenger door and waiting until she was seated before he closed the door and rounded the vehicle.

Settling into the driver's seat, he put the key in the ignition when her voice almost startled him.

"What makes you think I'm gonna stay?" She probably would. She knew it. She'd be with her son, be assured he was safe. She was exhausted and she'd bitten off more than she could chew. So she'd probably do as he asked. Demanded really. But she'd make her displeasure known. She hated needing help. She hated asking for it even more. And sitting on the sidelines while someone else finished what she started was even worse. But she had to accept it. That she needed help. John's kind of help.

He pursed his lips and took a deep breath before he answered. He hadn't wanted to argue about this. There was entirely too much he needed to do to extricate her from this situation. She needed to be out of his way and out of his mind while he did so. He tried to think of what to say without riling her further. Without needing to lock her inside the safe house or handcuff her there and face the questions from her son. "I was distracted and you almost got killed. I need you to do this for me." He decided to implore her caring side. The side he knew cared about him as much as he cared about her. To frame it as her doing something for him. Doing what he needed. She wouldn't be able to refuse. He wouldn't have been able to either.

Her voice softened. "I appreciate it, John, but nobody appointed you my keeper. And I wasn't almost killed."

"What happened, Carter? That was plan B. The guy you shot? He was supposed to kill you. In the line of duty. You were too quick so they saw the opportunity to set you up. Just biding their time until they can try again. You know this, Joss. You're just another Beecher or Szymanski to them." He let his words settle in as he scanned her face. "...And nobody appointed you my keeper either. It is what it is." He turned to face forward. "I'll keep you in the loop but I don't want you anywhere near this right now."

"I have a job."

He turned to her again. "You're suspended." She was done. He knew it. The look on her face said it all. He remembered what she'd said earlier. "And I do trust you." With that he turned the key in the ignition and put the car in drive before dialing Finch.

* * *

It took about two hours to pick Taylor up from his cousin's house and drive to the large condo Finch had instructed them to use during their earlier conversation.

Before leaving them to get settled in, Reese gave Carter some last minute instructions, knowing she already knew, but wanting to hear her voice. Coax something out of her. She hadn't had anything to say to him beyond parlaying directions to her sister-in-law's house where she'd stowed her son for the night. After picking up the teenager, he'd parked several blocks away from their apartment, leaving her with the weapons he kept in the glove compartment before setting out on foot to scope the periphery and interior of her building for any possible threats. He'd stood by quietly as the Carters packed their things, and they drove in silence to the condo. Taylor didn't speak much either, nodding as his mother told him they couldn't stay in their home and that she would explain what was happening later. The teen had apparently sensed his mother's mood and acted accordingly.

"Don't leave. Don't let anyone in." John kept himself from cringing as he spoke the words, knowing the woman standing in front of him was far from an idiot. But the silence between them was unsettling. Unusual. It was the circumstances, he knew, but he still didn't like it. "One of us'll be bringing you some food, groceries." There were canned goods and other non-perishable items in the kitchen to tide them over in the meantime. He watched as she nodded, her eyes straight ahead, falling on his chest because of the height difference. He glanced over to the couch when Taylor rose and headed down the hallway with a bag, presumably to his temporary bedroom. "He says there's cable, internet. You should be okay to use it." He figured Taylor especially would need a connection to the web in order to keep his sanity. He watched as he got another nod from her. "What else do you think you'll need?" He hoped an open-ended question would get a vocal response.

She shrugged her right shoulder. "We'll be fine."

John studied her for a moment. The weariness in her face and voice making him want to reach out for her. Take her in his arms for a moment, take all of it away. It had gotten to her. The sum of all of the bad things disrupting her life lately. Taylor's life. The current threat from HR, Elias, the murders of Szymanski and Beecher. Moving a corpse, a body he was responsible for, because he couldn't be bothered. It was an assholish move, leaving her to protect her partner on her own when she'd asked for help, but he hadn't known just how assholish until later. Later, when he'd learned that protecting her partner meant she'd had to move Stills' body. Then there was everything she had done to help convince the FBI he was John Warren, investment banker. Everything that resulted from that. Coming so close to losing her freedom, her life. Donnelly losing his for simply doing his job. The job both he and she had tirelessly impeded.

He understood now. The fatigue in her eyes, her mannerism, her voice. A lesser person would have crumbled long ago. But she wouldn't. Even if she didn't have Taylor, she wouldn't. It made him fall a little more in awe of her. "I'm sorry, Joss." For everything she was going through. For everything she was going through that he had contributed to. For making her stay here instead of doing what her nature demanded and fighting to the end.

She met his eyes then. They were strikingly sincere. It pierced her heart. He brought trouble- a whole lot of trouble- into her life. But so far it was worth it. She was glad she had him. Glad he'd come so far from the troubled soul she'd first met.

But rest. She needed some desperately. Her body, her emotions, they had had enough. They needed to recover. She needed a break, needed to let someone else shoulder the burden for awhile. Just awhile. And he'd come.

Though she was drained, mentally and physically, she had reason to hope things would get better. That she and her son would stop being targets. That she'd stop having to constantly look over her shoulder at her own damn comrades. That she'd be able to do her job, the job that she loved, in relative peace. He gave her that hope. He probably didn't realize it, but he did. "Thank you. For helping me with this."

He looked between her eyes and nodded. He wasn't sure if she knew it but he'd do anything for her. Anything. Kill, torture. Die. He'd do it. Everything about her that had attracted him to her in the first place had been amplified since getting to know her, including his attraction. He kept it under wraps, the right moment to act on it never presenting itself. Or rather, when it did, he always hedged, wondering if he was truly ready to open himself up like that again. Wondering if, as he suspected, she really did feel the same emotional and physical draw towards him. Seconds passed before he was forced to peel his eyes away from hers as Taylor made his way back into the living room. Turning back to her once more, he spoke quietly. "I'll call you."

* * *

Settling back behind the wheel of Carter's rental car, Reese tapped his earpiece. "Finch."

"Mr. Reese. Any problems?"

"They're safe. For now. What'd you find out?"

"Detective Terney did check into a hospital. It's not likely Mr. Yogorov did. I can't find any record of it."

"What's Terney saying?"

"According to hospital records, it was an accidental shooting. Who he's saying accidentally shot him I don't know. He's distancing himself from this one. Official story of the prison guards- and the police escort I'm quite certain Terney was riding with- is Elias escaped."

Reese nodded. "What about Baisden? Did you get his address?"

"Yes, sending it now. Along with a photo. He's married. Three small children. Has a weekly bowling night at Northwest Bowl Thursday nights at 7." Finch looked up from his computer monitors. It was Thursday. "What's the plan, John?"

Reese pulled out into traffic. "We take down HR."

Finch was used to Reese and his matter-of-fact declarations. And he usually left Reese to his own devices, knowing when his friend's skill set would suffice and offering his support when it didn't. But this involved taking down an entire organization that, like a roach, refused to die. "And Elias?"

John sighed heavily. "We let him go. We don't have time to deal with him right now."

Finch paused to be sure he heard him correctly. "Do you think that's wise, Mr. Reese?"

John closed his eyes momentarily. He knew Joss wanted Elias back behind bars. She wanted to let the right people know there was an attempt on his life so he could be protected. So justice would be served the right way. _He_ wanted him back behind bars. But the mob boss was still running his criminal empire imprisonment or no. And there were other mitigating factors he wasn't sure he could control. "If we take him back, tell the truth, there'll be too many questions. Joss may have saved his life but she's still the reason he was behind bars in the first place. I don't want to risk him giving her up and have it get back to the wrong people."

"And if he's caught later? This will only delay the inevitable."

"Elias can wait. We cut HR off at the head. Now. They're not gonna stop coming after Joss. This ends, Finch. We dropped the ball last time. It won't happen again."

There was finality in the former assassin's voice. Finch recognized he was riding shotgun in this endeavor and took his seat. "What's your next move?"

"Back to the motel. Relieve Fusco. Put him on Simmons. He's gotta be the key." Frustration and anger were creeping back in. Directed toward himself. They had done a half-assed run on HR previously. Let go of it all after the feds did their own half-assed job at bringing the corrupt cabal of cops down. They'd spent their time solely on the numbers and gotten further distracted when he'd acted foolishly and gotten himself caught, nearly bringing the rest of the team down with him. Then the virus took precedence and now here they were. Joss was in danger because he hadn't finished his damn job. "What about Redmund?"

"Mr. Redmund appears to be a legitimate number. I'm heading out to his place of business now."

"Which is?"

Finch smiled. "He's an ornithologist." He didn't wait long for a response, anticipating his partner's quizzical silence. "A bird watcher, Mr. Reese."

A small smile turned up the corner of his mouth. "Any idea what the threat is yet?"

"Not yet. I'll be in touch."

Reese ended the call, intending to meet with Finch once he'd taken care of the immediate Elias situation. He would have to rely on Fusco when or if Redmund's situation became too much for Finch to handle on his own and he was needed to assist his friend. In the meantime, he needed to do some shopping.


	2. Chapter 2

Fusco let Reese into the motel room an hour-and-a-half later, grateful to see some food being carried by the vigilante among other things. He watched as John placed the bags on the dresser. He spoke in a hushed tone, wanting to know if Taylor and Carter were somewhere out of HR's reach. "Good?"

"He give you any trouble?" He ignored the question and spoke his loud enough for Elias to hear, turning to him as he heard movement in that direction.

Elias shifted, sitting up straight on the bed as he tried to find a comfortable position. He kept trying even though it was impossible. "How's the detective? She safe?"

"You mean the woman you tried to murder?"

Elias gave a single nod of acknowledgement. "Things change, John. As I'm sure you can attest to when it comes to the detective."

Fusco eyed Reese, rapidly feeling the apprehension approaching that usually washed over him when some shit he didn't want any part of was about to go down. After a few seconds, he was able to release the breath he had been holding as the muscles in John's face relaxed and he didn't take the bait.

Elias probed. "Where is she anyway?"

Reese took a couple steps toward his prisoner. His voice was eerily soft, calm. Almost gentle. "Here's an idea, Elias. You don't mention her again, and we won't have a problem."

Elias smiled knowingly, ultimately deciding that now wasn't the time or place to antagonize his highly capable captor. "Relax, John. I was only going to offer some of my men for protection. I owe the detective a debt. I always repay my debts."

Reese quickly turned back to the dresser and began setting out the bags' contents. He tossed a greasy paper bag onto the bed next to Elias before handing one to Fusco.

"So what's the plan?" Lionel watched John nod his head toward the bathroom and followed him there, unwrapping the sandwich he'd been given along the way. He should have waited until he found out what the hell was going on but it was past lunchtime and he hadn't had breakfast. His stomach just wasn't having it anymore. He chewed quickly while he listened.

"Joss and Taylor are at one of Finch's properties. I need you on Simmons again while I check in with Finch. We dropped the ball before. It won't happen again."

Fusco swallowed the food in his mouth. "I followed him for weeks last time. Didn't get nothing. Carter ain't gonna have that kind of time this time." He took another bite of his sandwich, his stomach no longer feeling like it was eating his insides out.

"Bluejack his phone. Their plans for Elias fell through. They're scrambling. He'll be in touch with his boss. We find out who it is, bring him down, Carter'll be the last thing on their minds."

"What about him?" Fusco nodded toward the door.

Reese took a heavy breath. "I'm letting him go."

Fusco stopped chewing, staring at his companion for a brief moment. John didn't look too sure of himself, his actions, and that gave Lionel pause.

"He's not after Joss. Not right now. HR is. We deal with that first."

Fusco nodded, knowing when not to question him. They had a somewhat rocky alliance but an alliance nonetheless. He'd learned long ago to trust Wonder Boy's judgment when it came to his partner. The woman had been hell bent on capturing him yet John had had no qualms threatening _him_- the one not trying to arrest him- over her safety. She had always been the favored one. The one John gave the safe investigative work to, while sending him out on the bodyguard assignments. The one he took to Texas with him to find Finch while pawning the Corwin investigation off on him after initially giving it to her. Whatever it was between Carter and John, it had been longstanding and would probably culminate into something one day. He briefly wondered if this situation would finally lead to that day. "I gotta check in at the precinct. You got this?"

At Reese's nod, they both left the bathroom. Looking around, realizing he hadn't brought a damn thing with him, he headed toward the door, leaving the handcuffed mob boss with the former spy.

Elias set his sandwich aside and watched as John settled into one of the chairs next to the table, facing him. He watched as the dangerous man who had once saved his life casually leaned back in his chair, setting his gun on the table. Leaving his hand mere centimeters from it. Sending a nonverbal message.

It really was a funny world, he thought. Both John and Detective Carter saving his life. Both probably regretting it every minute. The position he was finding himself wherein he somehow owed the two people who got him incarcerated in the first place. The same two people, a cop and a killer, who appeared to defy all sense and logic by coexisting in the same murky realm and falling into some kind of deep affection. Admiration. Love. He didn't envy them. All of that came at too big a price. One he'd never be willing to pay. He almost felt sorry for them. If they ever gave in, it would end badly.

Reese watched the mobster. He could kill him. An incredibly large part of him wanted to. It would solve a lot of problems, present and future. It would make up for saving his ass in the first place so that he could later try to murder Joss and kidnap Taylor, not to mention all the other people he had harmed since. He could do it quickly, easily. Dispose of the body and sleep like a baby. But he knew he couldn't. That it would be spitting in the face of everything Joss had just done to save his life. All that she'd just risked because she was a better person than he was. So he couldn't do it. He wouldn't. Not today anyway.

He reached for his gun on the table and held it between his knees as he leaned toward Elias. "Detective Carter didn't save your life. She never shot those two assholes who were going to shoot you. She didn't bring you here. You never saw her. If any of this ever comes back onto her, if I hear you even speak her name again, I will kill you." The inflection in his voice never changed, the steeliness of his gaze never wavered. It happened when he meant business. When he was not in any way fucking around.

He continued to bore a hole through his sometime adversary. At the mobster's simple nod of acceptance, nothing else needed to be said. He rose from the chair, pulled his lock pick from one of his pockets, and released Elias from his handcuffs. Pocketing them- they belonged to Joss- he walked over to the dresser, retrieved the change of clothes he'd picked up on the way, and tossed them in Elias' direction. "Hurry up."

* * *

It was nearly seven o'clock later that evening when Reese returned to the condo the Carter family was occupying. He had wanted to bring them some food and catch Joss up on what was happening. Tell her that he'd let Elias go. With her son there, she was unlikely to murder him in cold blood.

Depositing the Indian take out on the counter, he began removing the containers as she and Taylor looked on. She didn't look much better than she had earlier in the day when he'd left her. However, the television was on and two laptops were clearly in use, so they'd been able to entertain themselves at the very least. The noise from a rerun of a show he'd never seen before- a comedy by the sound of the laughtrack- made the place seem more alive than it had when he'd left them this morning, filling the earlier conversational void with its presence.

"Are you eating?" Carter searched through the drawers for a fork. They must have forgotten to put plasticware in the bag when John picked up his order.

"No, I have to be somewhere." Somewhere being Northwest Bowl.

She nodded. "Okay. Well, thanks for dinner." She turned to Taylor. "Here." She handed her son a fork and he thanked his mother before taking his food to the table where he was sitting with his laptop. She was about to join him when she felt John's hand on her forearm, halting her movement.

"I need to talk to you. Before I go."

She looked over at her son for a moment before setting her food down and heading out of the kitchen and down the hall, John on her heels. She had questions, lots of them, but he'd said he had someplace he needed to be so she wasn't going to delay him. She stopped when she reached her temporary bedroom, walking inside before turning to face him. She looked at him expectantly as he stood in front of her, clad in his usual suit. She kept her eyes from wandering to the bared skin where the buttons of his shirt were undone, not appreciating the fact that they were trying to go there. This wasn't her bedroom at home, and he wasn't her man, but for some reason having him so close to where she would be sleeping shortly gave her a completely inappropriate and tantalizing jolt. Strong enough that she actually feared he had sensed it. She should have taken him to the bathroom or, better yet, stayed in the kitchen where she wouldn't have been alone with him. The man was so severely attractive it made her angry just looking at him sometimes.

He studied her, suddenly deciding to give her the more benign information first. It was a last second game plan change; he had originally wanted to get the potential Elias fireworks out of the way first. But there was something about that look on her face. Something about being in this bedroom with her right now, where she would sleep later, where he was now suddenly and inexplicably itching to make love to her later, that made him want to prolong this quiet moment. "How are you holding up?"

She shrugged her shoulder. "I'm okay. Just wishing Taylor didn't have to deal with this."

He nodded, subdued for a moment, before wanting to make her smile. "Practicing law's starting to look pretty good right about now, hmm?" He got it. The smile he wanted. He gave her one in return.

She smiled. If only he knew what else was starting to look pretty good to her right now. It was this room. The intimacy of this room. Had to be. She needed to not be in here with him. All of the stress she was dealing with was leaving her defenseless to the attack on her he didn't know he was leveling. "So what's up?" If anything would keep her from responding to his pheromones, the reason for them being here in the first place would do it.

He kept his eyes trained on her knowingly a few seconds longer before he responded. "We're back to looking into Simmons. I figure with them letting Elias get away, he'll be in touch with his boss soon. When he does, we'll be there." He wouldn't wait long, though. Fusco had reported that he'd been unable to find him, that he'd taken the day off. A quick visit to his home revealed that he'd been in all day, caring for his sick daughter while his wife was at work. Apparently the bastard indeed had a beating heart.

Reese had spent more time than he planned aiding Finch with their number earlier in the day and, before he knew it, it was time to check in with Joss and Taylor. He'd join Fusco tomorrow to see what move Simmons would make. He knew it was best to catch the corrupt officer in cahoots with HR's mastermind on tape but if there wasn't any movement soon, he'd simply beat Simmons' boss's name out of him and call it a damn day.

She nodded. "Yeah, we probably shouldn't have taken our eyes off him the first time." She met his eyes. "What about Elias?" She noticed the look on his face change. It made her nervous.

He took a deep breath. "I let him go. Official word was that he escaped. We needed to go with that story. We tell the truth, they start asking more questions, your name might come up. The Russians or HR find out you were there…."

He didn't need to finish the sentence. She knew it was a distinct possibility should anyone find out. And it was the same reason she wasn't comfortable allowing Fusco to take him in and take the heat for it. But Elias out wandering the streets? Not behind bars where he belonged? How was she supposed to handle that? As a law enforcement officer and as one of his victims?

There was also the fact that she was the reason he'd finally been arrested in the first place. Was she really supposed to believe that saving his life garnered her a permanent get-out-of-jail-free card? The man was a master manipulator. If it benefited him, she knew she'd be under the bus in seconds. She and her son were no more safe from him than they were from HR. At least with him locked up, and supposedly going to trial soon, he'd likely be convicted and sent to a prison somewhere stripped of his lackeys and power.

She didn't like this. Him out there being a wildcard, probably willing to do anything to remain at large now that John had let him go. It made her uneasy. It was like trading a gunshot wound for a knife wound. It was going to hurt like hell either way.

Reese watched her face closely. She hadn't said anything and he could see her mind racing, concern blanketing her features. He wished he had had something better to tell her. Wished their options had been something other than bad and worse. Wished he could have just taken Elias out like he wanted. "Lesser of two evils, I know."

She crossed her arms over her stomach, hugging herself as her gaze moved somewhere to her left. She took a deep breath, her exhale coming out in an inadvertent shudder. "I wish I could be sure about that."

He took a few steps closer to her, the movement causing her to lift her eyes to his. "He's not going to be a problem. I promise." He was close to her now. Standing so close, she no longer had any personal space. Her space was his. He reached out to rest his hand on her upper arm. He wanted to touch her. Wanted more than his words to assure her. "He comes anywhere near you, even looks your way, I'll kill him."

She swallowed hard. Struggled to keep her eyes on his. They were entirely too intense for her right now.

The words should have scared her. That he would kill in cold blood for her. It was a twisted kind of display of affection normal people would run from. She'd dropped a man before for far less. For the tiny inkling she had had that he might be a little crazy. That he might have violent tendencies. She knew this man did. Knew he used to kill for a living. Knew he now saved lives but could and would slip back into that persona if he wanted. What he said might have even been a little romantic if this were a movie and he was the leading man. As it was, though, it was real life. And it was ugly. It made her attraction to him that much more insane. She'd never be able to explain it. Never be able to make it sound less psychotic. That he may be all of those things- dangerous, impulsive, reckless- but she knew, would bet her life that he'd never hurt her. Ever.

She didn't move. Didn't back away when he took yet another step toward her, his hand drifting from her arm up to the side of her face, the tiniest bit of space between them, his eyes searching hers. She didn't try to calm her racing heart when she realized what was about to happen. She'd always known he was attracted to her. He'd never taken much effort to hide it. And she wanted it. She wanted his kiss. Finally. His sweet, lethal kiss.

But just before she felt her control completely slip away, she put her hands on his chest, stopping his momentum toward her lips. Her son was in the kitchen. Could come down the hall to his room at any moment. She was terrified once she tasted John's lips, felt his intimate touch, that she wouldn't be able to stop. "Taylor," she whispered. She watched as his eyes opened and the haze immediately lifted, her son's name a damn effective cold shower.

He nodded once, taking his other hand and drawing it up to her face. He was too close. Too close not to. He pressed his lips to hers briefly once, drawing back before needing to do it again. Just once more. Finally, he was able to back away from her. Disappointed but understanding. If Taylor hadn't been there, his evening's plans would have fallen through. She would have allowed him to stay here with her, and he would have stayed.

"You have to go anyway, right?" Her voice. It was not hers. She cleared her throat.

He nodded again, not trusting his voice after witnessing how hers had betrayed her.

She gave a nod of her own and walked around him and out the room, her heart still pounding a mile a minute. He followed until they reached the living room. While she headed back to her food on the kitchen counter, he walked over to the table and rested his hand on Taylor's shoulder. The boy looked up at him, saw the empathy in his eyes, and nodded. Reese squeezed his shoulder and left him, the pent up sexual frustration finding release in anger that both of them were going through this. He stopped by the kitchen, watching as Joss placed her food in the microwave. Standing at the entryway, he decided to give his voice a try. "Call me if you need anything."

She looked over at him and nodded. Still uneasy, still exhausted, still scared. Still wanting him.

After a few seconds, he turned to leave. She followed him and locked the door after he passed through.

* * *

Ryan Baisden chuckled softly and shook his head as he peeled away from his two friends en route to his car. They had lost the bowling match but it didn't matter. It was fucking bowling. Though it had been a warm day, there was a slight chill in the late May air so he put a little pep in his step and shoved his hands in his pockets. Not bothering to take his keys out of his jacket pocket, he pressed the button on the remote and saw the lights of his vehicle flash in the dark. Remembering his wife wanted him to stop by the store and pick up a loaf of bread and some milk, he opened the driver's side door and settled into his seat.

Even though he was a cop and knew better, he could have beaten the shit out of himself for not doing it. For not checking the back seat before he got in. He felt the cold metal against the back of his neck before he heard a thing.

"Move and your wife's a widow."

He could've kicked his own ass for not having his weapon with him. He was going bowling. Just fucking bowling. Why would he have needed it? "I'm a cop, man. You don't want to do this."

"I'm not a cop and I do want to do this. Give me your phone. Slowly." Reese grabbed the phone as it was slowly given to him as instructed. "I want you to drive. Go where I tell you. Try to cause an accident, my bullet'll hit you before the windshield does. Now let's go." Reese kept his gun trained on his hostage as he directed him, dividing his attention between the road and Baisden's body language in case the cop decided to pull on his training and try to extricate himself. It wasn't long before they pulled into the corner of an abandoned lot. "Give me the keys. Slowly." He waited until Baisden cut the engine and took the keys out of the ignition.

"What do you want?" Ryan's voice was a lot stronger than he thought it would be. Sure he was a cop. Sure he'd had all the training. But one could never be completely prepared when the bad shit actually happened to them.

"It's pretty simple actually. You took a gun. The Borovski shooting."

Baisden swallowed. He wasn't fully in on the machinations of that shooting and had simply done what he was told by his HR superiors. He hadn't been in the game long and wasn't prepared for the shit to hit the fan so quickly. All he knew was that Carter had taken out Borovski, much to someone in HR's chagrin, and they wanted him to get rid of the victim's gun quietly before any other backup arrived. He knew at that moment it was to frame the detective but he also knew not to ask questions. Carter didn't mean anything to him and it wasn't like he was sanctioning a murder. She'd probably get suspended for a few weeks, maybe even demoted or fired, but whatever happened it didn't concern him. He did what he was told and reaped some monetary reward, the whole purpose behind his dealings with the dirty cop sect. But how this guy knew and why he was threatening him with a gun over it he had no idea. All he had done was what he was told.

"I want you to go to IAB, tell them you took it off the victim, and take your punishment."

Ryan swallowed again, even though there was nothing in his mouth to go down his throat. "Who are you? Who are you working for?" If he could get an angle on where this guy was coming from, maybe he could cut a deal, weasel his way out of it. Had HR turned on him and set him up? He'd always done what he was told and had never made waves. Why the hell did they want him out of the way?

"Ryan, I'm not going to repeat myself. You took a gun and set up one of your fellow officers. That was wrong, Ryan. Very wrong."

"Why do you need the gun? I can give it to you. I can take you to it right now. It's- "

Reese sighed softly, the chill of which reached the back of Baisden's neck. "Ryan. What did I say?"

"I can't do it, man. I'll lose everything. My family, man, I- "

"You will lose everything, Ryan. But if you don't do as I say, you'll lose your life." John pressed the barrel of the gun harder into the back of Baisden's neck. "Are we clear?" He saw the hesitant nod at his prodding. "In the morning, Ryan. I want it done in the morning. You don't want to see me again." He slammed the butt of his gun into the side of Baisden's head with enough force to knock him out so he could quietly slip away into the night.

* * *

"Detective?" Finch sat at his desk, having cut away from Reese's "negotiation" session to answer Detective Fusco's call.

Though he was exhausted after the long night at the motel with Carter and the even longer morning with Elias, Fusco was restless. He needed to go home and get some sleep but he knew he wasn't going to be able to rest until he got something, anything to use to get HR off Carter's back. He owed her at least that much. So he grabbed some dinner and made his way back to the Simmons residence to wait for the bastard to make a move. He had to at some point. Fusco had felt the tension from the crooked cop establishment all day, knowing they were reeling from the failure last night. They had fucked up, Elias had escaped, and they knew he was out plotting revenge on both them and the Russians.

Simmons had to make a move soon. He had to.

He did.

Fusco ducked down low in his car as the officer left his house and jumped into his car before pulling off. He took that moment to let Finch know as John wasn't answering his phone. "Simmons is on the move. I'm tailing him." He turned on his headlights and followed at a respectable distance.

"Thank you, Detective. Keep the line open. I'll inform Mr. Reese."

Lionel followed him for nearly thirty minutes, absentmindedly wondering what the hell Simmons would tell his wife when he left the house for these long periods of time late in the evenings. His own ex-wife would have been all over his ass like white on rice. She just….wouldn't have been on that shit at all. What kind of clueless wonder did he have at home? His thoughts wandered back to the present when Simmons pulled into a New York Public Library branch and parked his car. Conveniently finding a spot to idle at along the street like they did on TV, Fusco watched as Simmons exited his vehicle and looked around. He then made his way to the sidewalk and walked casually, hands in his jacket pockets.

Hopping out of his car, Fusco followed him, convinced that his mark was definitely about to lead him to something, or someone, important. It wasn't easy following him, though. He checked his surroundings constantly, paranoia swamping him to the nth degree. If he was trying to be inconspicuous, he was failing miserably, looking over his shoulder every ten seconds.

They had been walking for several blocks before the next TV trope happened: Simmons entered a seemingly abandoned building, checking over his shoulder once more before closing the door. Wishing he'd gotten the chance to bluejack his phone, Fusco scoped the building, needing to get eyes and/or ears on whatever was going down inside. The darkness gave him cover as he walked around to the back, finding another entrance. The windows were high and too grimy to see through. It was going to be the door or nothing. Fortunately it was dark behind the dirty windows so he hoped the noise he was about to make getting in wouldn't be detected. Simmons was probably in another part of the building.

Also, fortunately, the door wasn't padlocked. It appeared to be a simple lock. He smiled. Simple locks meant simple lockpicking. He hadn't had to do it in ages but it was like riding a bike. He'd be inside in a minute.

Quietly stepping in with his gun raised, Fusco was relieved to find he was alone, the only light coming from outside. It wasn't enough but it would have to do. He didn't want his flashlight to alert anyone to his presence. He heard a muffled voice after his eyes had adjusted and cautiously moved toward it. Reaching a hallway, he heard the voice coming from his right, a soft light accompanying it from down the hall. A second voice joined the first and Fusco tried not to get his hopes up.

But it was okay in this case. He had every damn right to get his hopes up it turned out. As he made his way down the hall and peered around the corner, he saw his nemesis engaging in conversation with the last person he expected to see: the mayor's chief of staff. It wasn't until that very moment he put two and two together. It wasn't until that exact moment he realized he'd had the key all along. Months ago, when Beecher had first started sniffing around Carter, he'd followed him, using Beecher's flashy reputation and his own gut feeling as justification of the act. Simmons had shown up and busted him. At the time, he thought Simmons had been following him, to keep up with his attempt at keeping him in line. He'd also thought it possible that Simmons had been waiting around for Beecher, since Fusco had been under the assumption Beecher was on HR's payroll, too, or at least had a linked shady operation going on. But all of those assumptions had been wrong. Beecher hadn't been crooked. Simmons hadn't been following Beecher or him. He had been there to meet up with Quinn, the mayor's right hand and the motherfucking head of HR.

He strained to hear what they were saying, but tried to record from his phone anyway. Glasses probably had some way of amplifying whatever the mic picked up. Hell, he was probably recording it on his own anyway since he'd left the line open. As he continued to struggle to hear what they were discussing, he shook his head in frustration. He wasn't coming up with much. He'd made out that they were talking about Elias but was unable to get the gist of the conversation. Whatever they were discussing, however, the matter was urgent from their forceful, hushed tones, and Fusco could only imagine the fear running through their veins. Not only had they failed spectacularly at murdering Elias, Elias was now running free and knew exactly who had conspired against him.

Couldn't have happened to a nicer bunch of sons of bitches.

The meeting went on for about ten minutes before Fusco heard one of them leave abruptly, the other one probably waiting a certain amount of time before making his exit. He figured that was his own cue to leave, in case the one that stayed behind was smart and went out the other exit. The one he'd come in from. Sneaking his way back out, he slipped outside, locking the door before allowing it to shut. He meandered his way back to his car, walking several blocks out of the way before reaching the library. Simmons' car was still there. He looked around, checking his vehicle before settling back into the driver's seat. He saw no signs of him and figured Quinn must have made his exit first.

Checking traffic before pulling away from the curb, Fusco checked the line. "Finch, you still there?"

"I'm here, Detective."

"Did you get any of that?"

"Your phone moving around in your pocket, detective? Yes, I got that."

Fusco rolled his eyes. "It's Quinn. Alonzo Quinn, Griffin's chief of staff."

Finch sat up as straight in his chair as his long standing injury would allow him. "Come again, detective?"

"Simmons. I followed him out to the Bronx. He met up with Alonzo Quinn. It's him. It makes sense. He's gotta be the head of HR."

The wheels were turning in Harold's head faster than he could keep up. It did. It did make sense. The mastermind behind HR had to be someone of great cunning with even greater connections, yet not so high on the social or political totem poles to make himself obvious. Someone smart enough to keep his name off any paper or digital records while ensuring the names of everyone who worked for him were. Making sure that if the feds ever came after the organization, there would be someone- in this case his legal boss's political opponent Walker- able to take the fall. Ensuring that only one person- the only person he trusted- knew who he was. The ledger the FBI had received conveniently hadn't listed Patrick Simmons, nor Detective Fusco for that matter. He suspected the detective might have been coerced into making that possible but he'd have to ask him about it later.

For now, they needed to figure out how to gather enough permissible evidence to bring Simmons and Quinn down in order to free Detective Carter from the stranglehold they had over her and her son, not to mention the one they had over the entire city. For a man as cunning and ruthless as Quinn apparently was, it wouldn't be easy. He had escaped the clutches of a Bureau-wide, resources deep investigation. But now that he knew who he was after, Finch welcomed the challenge. It would be difficult, yes. But impossible? Not in the least. "I believe you could be right, Detective. I think you've just given us the key."


	3. Chapter 3

"John. Detective Fusco followed Officer Simmons to Alonzo Quinn."

The surprise registered on his face only briefly. Nothing really shocked him anymore. "So it was Quinn the whole time." Reese continued, his thoughts running alongside Finch's. "And he set up Zambrono and Walker, getting Griffin's competition out of the way."

"Yes." Finch released a troubled sigh. "And he had no problem executing his own godson."

Reese's face turned grim. Quinn was one cold bastard.

"How did it go with Mr. Baisden, John?" Detective Fusco's enlightening call had taken his attention away from his partner's activities momentarily.

"It went. What are we doing about Quinn? Do we think Griffin is involved?"

"Somehow I doubt that. This wouldn't have worked so well for so long had the mayor been involved. His political opponents would have dug deep enough a long time ago to find out or at least get close.

"Right now we need to find evidence that we can get to people who won't bury it. There's no paper or digital trail that we've found thus far. No money trail either. But that was before we knew who we were looking for." Finch painfully tried to stretch his muscles. He would work a little more on this by setting up his computer scans to reach into every minute detail of Alonzo Quinn's personal, professional, and illegal lives before calling it a night and seeing what resulted in the morning. Or at least after a few hours.

This was going on both his and John's third night of no sleep, their dealings with the Machine and Root having kept them occupied for a solid 48 hour stretch before they were confronted with Detective Carter's dire predicament. If they were going to be any good for the detective, they needed to get some sleep. "I've got some work to do on my end, Mr. Reese. I checked in on Detective Carter a little while ago. Why don't you call it a night. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow." He disconnected the call.

John was restless, though. His mind whirling with possibilities of how to end Quinn for threatening Joss, killing people she cared about, and being an all around evil bastard. It was what the government had trained him to do. Something he excelled at. Though it was still a part of his makeup, he was learning to channel it into saving people. Mostly. Only killing in self defense or in defense of others, or those he knew firsthand had killed others. Quinn fit that mold. But this involved Carter. She was better than he was when it came to matters such as this. His thoughts drifted to Elias. She was clearly better than he was. Though it wouldn't satisfy his personal desire for revenge, being able to turn in Quinn, Simmons, and whoever else they could finger to the feds would have to suffice.

The problem was, he wanted to do it now. He wanted to continue to work until the job was done. So he could return the Carters to their home safely. But Finch had told him there was nothing more for him to do at the moment. It wasn't a feeling he liked. Even though the Carters weren't in immediate danger thanks to the safe house, he wanted it over and done with. He wanted to tell her the threat was gone. He wanted her to know he wasn't going to rest until it was.

He wouldn't be going home.

* * *

Taylor and Joss sat on the living room couch, simultaneously watching TV and surfing the internet. She looked over at her son, engrossed in something on his laptop screen. He had been quiet the entire day. He got that from his father. Whenever something was troubling him, he shut down. Didn't talk. Just kept his worries to himself. She reached her hand out and gripped his chin, turning him to her. "Hey. Do you want to talk?" She watched as he shrugged and she released his face. "It's going to be okay. We'll be going home soon. Like I told you, this is just a precaution, but I hate that I'm putting you through this."

_Again_. She wanted to add "again." Her job had put him at risk before. Gotten him kidnapped by the very man she'd gone way out on a limb to save last night. Sometimes she questioned her sanity.

"It's okay, Mom. I know it's not your fault."

_But it is_, she wanted to tell him. She chose to be a cop, chose to risk her life doing what she loved. It was her fault for not recognizing what it could do to him. She'd always told herself that she could get hit by a bus and taken from him, that her dangerous job didn't really matter. She was beginning to question that justification now.

Her temporary burner phone ringing disrupted the quiet moment. She looked at the caller id. It was Fusco. "Fusco? What's up?"

"Carter. Hanging in there?"

"Hanging. What's going on?"

"We think we got him."

She got up from the couch and headed toward the kitchen. "Who?" She had a guess as to who but she didn't want to get ahead of herself.

"HR. The big kahuna. It's Alonzo fucking Quinn, Carter."

"What? Griffin's chief of staff?" After the initial shock wore off, Carter started putting the pieces together. The niggling feeling she'd had about that shooting he was involved in where Szymanski was killed. The all around elusiveness of HR's leader with power but little presence. It made a hell of a lot of sense. If Elias could masquerade about as a quiet school teacher, Quinn could perpetrate as a loyal campaign manager-turned-chief of staff. "But wait a minute, Fusco. Quinn was Cal's- "

"I know. Cold-hearted son of a bitch, Carter. Long and short of it."

She swallowed. She and Cal were nowhere near the point of falling in love with one another. They had still been in the discovery stage, and she'd spent much of that time taking one step forward with him before making two giant skips back. It had been a staccato-like relationship that never held a note long enough to see what could or couldn't happen between them. Regardless, she cared about him. As a friend if nothing else, especially after learning the truth about him. That he hadn't been involved in setting Szymanski up and was genuinely interested in her, not using her to keep himself two steps ahead. He hadn't deserved what happened and it hurt even more to know it came at the hands of his own godfather, the person his parents had entrusted to guide him through life in case of their absence. "What's next?"

"Glasses is working on that with Wonder Boy right now I'm pretty sure. What about you? Need anything?" He didn't even know where John had stashed his partner but if she needed anything he'd find out right now.

She shook her head and smiled. Fusco always cracked her the hell up with his nicknames for Harold and John. She sighed. "No. We're good. Thanks, Lionel."

"Let me know, okay? I'm heading home."

"Okay, thanks again."

"Yep."

She hung up the phone, anger and sadness competing wildly for her attention. Even though they'd sat around doing nothing, it had been a long day. She watched as Taylor made his way into the kitchen.

"I'm gonna go to bed." He reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

She looked at her watch. It was only 10:30 but she felt ready to crash, too. "Okay, T. Sleep tight." She watched as he headed out of the kitchen before she added, "Love you."

"Love you, too, Ma."

She smiled for a brief moment. That sounded like him. He always sounded like he was rolling his eyes when he responded to her declarations of undying motherly love. That boy held her heart like no one else ever could. He kept her going, kept her sane whenever she thought she was going to lose it. Like a few minutes ago.

She looked down at her phone as she received a text message. _There in twenty_. It was from the man who always tried to cancel out all of Taylor's good work at keeping her sane. Her stomach tightened. She immediately thought back to earlier in the evening and wondered why he was coming by instead of calling.

She was angry, hurt, tired, relieved. And she decided at that moment she wouldn't be responsible for her actions once he walked through that door.

* * *

Carter's heart pounded a little in her chest when he arrived fifteen minutes later. She let him in, the television turned down low so Taylor could fall asleep peacefully. Hopefully. It was the only light illuminating the room so she turned on one of the lamps by the door after he crossed the threshold.

Even in the low level light, he looked tired yet wired. Like he had a lot on his mind but hadn't the energy to expel it. Like his reserves were depleted and he was running on the last bit of fuel in his line. She imagined she looked the same.

"We think we know who's behind HR." He spoke the words to her after stepping into the room and turning to face her.

She left the foyer and headed toward the couch. "I heard. Fusco called me." Plopping down tiredly onto the couch, she smelled his scent as he walked past and sat down heavily next to her. Not at the opposite end of the couch but right next to her. She didn't know what he'd been up to since he left several hours ago but he still smelled good. She wondered what cologne he used. It mixed with his chemistry perfectly and probably cost as much as his perfectly tailored suits.

She shook her head. "I just can't believe he'd do that to his own godson."

He didn't turn to look at her. He was sitting too close to do so. If he turned his head, his lips would only be a couple feet from hers. Way too close. "We're gonna get him."

She knew that was true. He and Finch were good at what they did. And, for John at least, this was personal. Everything from him towards her since the entire thing started told her as much. It was one of the reasons why she couldn't resist making the offer. "You can stay here. It's late." She didn't know if that was his intention all along or if he only wanted to check in on them before going home for the night.

He chanced it finally and looked at her. He was too tired to care if she saw it. Everything in his eyes. He stared at her for what felt like a minute but was probably only seconds. "I can't." His voice wilted. But, again, he didn't care.

"You're tired. It's okay." _I want you to stay_.

He continued to stare at her before shaking his head. "Taylor's asleep."

Her head shifted slightly in confusion, her eyes still meeting his.

"That's why I can't stay." Their buffer would be gone. Things would happen.

She nodded. But she didn't care. She didn't give a damn about his reasoning. She was too tired to. Too tired, hurt, angry, relieved. She grabbed his hand and got up from the couch, picking up the remote with her free hand to turn the television off.

He rose with her, following behind as she led him to her room, same as before. Once they were inside, she closed the door behind them and pressed her back against it, the only light in the room streaming between the blinds, gifted to them by the moon. He stepped toward her, not waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, and wrapped his hands around her waist, beginning the meticulous process of devouring her.

It was dark so they felt. They felt tongues and lips and wetness. Cotton and satin and worsted and polyester. Skin and teeth and pulsating veins.

They pulled and sucked and bit and thrust.

All before they even left the threshold.

Walking her over to the bed, he waited until she fell back on it before following, crawling up her body. He felt himself wrapped in her arms as he sank in, cursing loudly in his head and gritting his teeth so the curses wouldn't leave his mouth.

She felt herself filled, cloaked by his large frame. Protected. She let go. She felt and let go.

A short time later, they both struggled for oxygen, almost competing for the precious element. Exhausted, spent. Renewed.

Reese climbed off the bed moments later, folding down one side of the comforter and sheet. He waited until she crawled toward him, laying her body down onto the exposed fitted sheet, before climbing back in beside her. He drew the covers up over their slick bodies and slid his arm beneath her until he had wrapped it around her small frame.

Then he closed his eyes and let go.

* * *

"Anything yet, Finch?" John stood in the living room fully dressed the following morning. It was early. Only around 6:30. But his mind and body had rested thoroughly and demanded he get up. He'd lain there in defiance for several minutes, though. Thinking about what they'd allowed themselves to do. To feel. He turned his head to look at her. She'd drifted away in her sleep but not far. He hoped that was how it would always be: if she ever drifted away, she would never be beyond his reach. He'd climbed out of bed, trying his best not to wake her, and taken his clothes into the hallway bathroom.

Today, he'd meet up with Finch and devise their next step. He'd take Joss with him. Lionel, too. They deserved to be in on the meet. They deserved to be there when it was decided how to bring HR down. For Carter, to make certain her son would truly be safe. For Fusco, to bury his former corruption once and for all. For him, to make damn sure Carter got that certainty.

"I'm just beginning to sift through some things. There's no new number yet so I'm working as quickly as I can."

"I want to bring Carter and Fusco, Finch." He didn't expect an argument from his partner and friend. The four of them needed a safe and secure place to set their plan in motion, and Finch needed their headquarters to best do his work. The trust amongst the four of them was written in blood, sweat, and tears. And the real secret, the Machine, had no presence there. It made sense. It was time.

There was a short pause before John received his response. "I'll have Detective Fusco's donuts ready."

His stomach beginning to growl, Reese decided to go out to get breakfast for the three of them. He scribbled a note on a notepad he found in the kitchen and started to make his way to the bedroom where Joss was still sleeping. Spotting her temporary cell phone on the end table, he instead placed the note beside it, certain she would see it there if she woke up before he returned. Like most people nowadays, she would head for her phone first thing.

Returning forty-five minutes later, Reese quietly let himself back into the condo, arms laden with bags and a cup carry tray. She had seen his note because she was in the kitchen, fully dressed and preparing to brew some coffee. "Good morning."

"Morning." Her eyes opened wide at the amount of food in his hands and she took some of it from him. "What'd you get?" She began to rifle through the bags.

"Pancakes, French toast, hash browns, sausage, bacon. Eggs, scrambled. Fruit- "

"Coffee. Mmm." Carter spied the styrofoam cups and immediately grabbed one. Taking a sip before adding any cream or sugar, she moaned as the liquid rush hit her. "Right on time. Thank you."

"Will Taylor eat it?" He knew what Carter ate for breakfast. He was less sure about her son.

She nodded. "Yeah, but we better put his away. He won't be up anytime soon. He'll sleep all day if I let him."

Together, they fixed their individual plates and headed over to the table to eat, the television turned to the news as background noise. As they settled in, Joss continued to wait for it. For the regret to settle in. She had acted impulsively, the strain of a roller coaster last couple of days- months really- beating her down until only her id was left in control. Freud would have had a field day. She waited for it from him as well. For the awkwardness or uncertainty to flank his actions, his words.

"I want you to come with me to meet Finch. Fusco, too. You should be in on this." She'd go with him, be safe in the library, and one of them would bring her back. They wouldn't have any trouble keeping her out of sight.

She nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. "Anything to get out of here. What's it like out there now? Sky still blue?"

He smiled. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, Carter."

"Feels like I been here a week….When are we heading out?"

"Whenever you're ready. I already called Fusco. Taylor should stay here. He'll be safe and we shouldn't be gone too long." He'd have to use the landline to reach his mother if he needed to. The battery had been removed from both Carters' personal phones as a precaution. He should have gotten the boy a burner but his uprooting them from their home had been rushed and unplanned.

"What does Finch have so far? Anything concrete? Quinn was a careful son of a bitch."

They spent the remainder of breakfast discussing the case, their theories, the clues they had missed. Before they knew it, they had finished eating and were ready to leave. Joss informed her son that she was leaving with John and would be back soon, reminding him to stay inside and call her if he needed anything. It wasn't long before they were in Reese's window-tinted SUV where she ducked down low and shielded her identity with her sunglasses.

She waited still. But they never came. Regret, uncertainty, awkwardness. They never even passed by.

* * *

"So where we headin?'" Fusco sat in the back seat of the SUV. He had been dressed and ready to go shortly after receiving John's call.

"It's an old library. Abandoned."

Carter cut her eye at Reese briefly. She resisted catching Fusco's eye. She and her partner had known about John and Harold's hideout for awhile now. They just never bothered to let the two men know that they knew. It kept the peace. Didn't infringe upon the two secretive men's desire for privacy. She was surprised that was where John was taking them. What was next, she wondered. Would they tell them about their government surveillance source no one was supposed to know about? What else was she going to get out of John since sleeping with him? It was like he was becoming an open book right before her eyes.

Fusco remained silent as he looked out the window. He'd act surprised when they got there. No need in riling up Wonder Boy and Glasses on their own turf.

* * *

"So this is it, huh?" Carter had seen the building before but she hadn't been inside. After climbing the stairs and walking through the gate, she was decidedly…..underwhelmed. Some computers, monitors, a big dry erase board that had seen better days. That was pretty much it. No sign of anything remarkable enough to spy and keep data on New Yorkers. Wherever the big server was, it wasn't here.

Bear greeted the two detectives and his master enthusiastically. More humans meant more play time. And he was always down for that.

Extricating herself from the dog, Joss made her way over to the board and turned to Finch. "This is the big secret hiding place?"

"To be fair, Detective, there was no secret. You just never asked." His mouth twitched at the corner at the _Well, that's true_ expression on her face and he turned back to his monitors.

His focus on the task at hand, Reese went to stand beside his partner. "What do you have so far?"

Fusco finished roughhousing with Bear and took his fill of the place as well. He was a little disappointed. Their superhero digs were pretty damn dull. He eyeballed a box of donuts, spirits lifting a bit, and took his pick.

Carter made her way over to flank Finch from the other side.

"I've gone through his financial and employment records. Nothing spectacular there. No excessive regular or irregular deposits."

"No offshore accounts?" Fusco spoke around the glazed donut in his mouth.

"Surprisingly none. I'm still digging." Finch paused his typing as he pondered. "If he wasn't getting direct payments, he's been doing this for the thrill, so to speak. The power." He resumed his search, looking into phone records.

"Who needs money when you own law enforcement and can get anything you want without it?" Joss crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Finch work his magic.

"I'm searching his phone records although, like us, I'm sure he uses untraceable ones."

"What about his past, Finch?" Reese leaned down, pressing both hands atop the desk. "Maybe we aren't going back far enough. He had to start somewhere. Who was close to him? Anyone with a record?"

Joss continued to watch the screens as all the text and binary data flew by. "He couldn't get to where he is without screwing over a lot of people. Somebody's gotta know something and isn't talking."

"Oh, what's this now?" Finch maximized one of the screens on the far left monitor. It flashed from an alert he had set up and running in the background. They all read the breaking news in stunned silence. Alonzo Quinn, the mayor's chief of staff, had been found murdered at his home in the early hours of that morning. No other details were available. Finch looked up at Reese, while Reese turned to Carter. Fusco turned to Bear.

While they silently took in the implications, Finch navigated to the local news websites, a niggling feeling washing over him. It didn't take long to find verification of his thoughts. There had been a small string of murders over the past twelve hours. Cops. Some of the victims had been identified. Patrick Simmons and Raymond Terney among them.

Carter and Fusco looked around the room for the ringing telephone that suddenly pierced the still air. Reese made eye contact with Finch before sliding open the desk drawer and retrieving the phone. He pressed the talk button and listened, ignoring the three sets of eyes on him.

"Hello, John. I'm sure you've seen the news by now." Elias sighed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Crazy world out there, isn't it? You don't have to thank me. I always repay my debts. Give the detective my regards."

* * *

Joss stared out the window while John drove back to Fusco's place. He glanced at her occasionally, wondering what was going through her mind. He wondered about Fusco, too, who sat uncharacteristically quiet in the back seat. Both of them were probably reeling from Elias' brand of vigilante justice that had likely left them feeling empty, devoid of any satisfaction.

She didn't know how or what she was supposed to be feeling. It all seemed hollow somehow. HR's reign was probably over, at least until the next Quinn came along. Her son was safe. There was no longer a target on her back. Szymanski and Cal could rest a little easier now. But at what cost? She'd saved the man who murdered them, and she was beginning to feel she'd chosen wrong. It was only a matter of time before Elias went after the Russians. The corruption and war for power would continue. So what, really, did she accomplish?

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out, frowning at the unrecognized local number. "Carter."

Reese listened to her end of the conversation. From what he gathered, his coercion had worked. He turned to glance at her when she finished the call.

"That was Clarks from IAB. They lifted my suspension. Baisden confessed to taking the gun."

"Why the hell'd he- ?" Fusco sat forward before it quickly dawned on him. He made brief eye contact with Reese in the rearview mirror before settling back against his seat, a wry smile spreading across his face as he looked out the window. _Of course_, he thought. Who else?

Carter looked at Reese, too. He didn't make eye contact, though. All she saw was that smirk taking over his profile. She looked out the window again, her own smile fighting its way to her face. _Of course_, she thought. No one but him.

* * *

After dropping Fusco off, John and Joss walked quietly into the building of condominiums, taking the elevator up to the top floor. Joss studied the elaborate architecture of the small enclosure as they rode up and decided she wouldn't have minded staying. Though the circumstances of the last twenty-four hours had been less than desirable, the accommodations were beyond pleasing. As they stepped off the elevator, Carter wondered if she could swing it. Work something out with Finch. He apparently owned all four condos that occupied the top floor; surely he could rent one out to her at a discount rate.

Her thoughts ceased as she felt John touch her hand and stop walking before they reached their door. She turned to him and immediately felt her heart begin to pound. He was looking at her in that way again. That look of concern and desire and protectiveness and utter devotion. The same look he assailed her with last night. The same one that had her giving herself to him without hesitation or regret.

"Are you okay?" She had been quiet for awhile now. Quite frankly, he couldn't stand it any longer. If she wasn't okay, he wouldn't be either, and he needed to start figuring out what he needed to do to make her okay.

She took a deep breath and broke eye contact with him. She'd been asking herself the same question since the car ride back. Hell, since Donnelly was killed. She wasn't sure. She really wasn't sure. "I don't know."

He nodded. At least she hadn't lied to him and reflexively said she was like people, himself included, tended to do. But that wasn't it. That wasn't all that was at the forefront of his mind. "Are we okay?"

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. That one was easy. That one was the only one she didn't have to think about. She reached up with her thumb and swiped at a tiny piece of lint that had been drawn to the corner of his mouth. She nodded. "We're okay." She let her hand linger on the side of his face, closing her eyes as his head descended. His lips were soft, caressing hers the way his hands had caressed her body last night. She sighed into his mouth.

They were okay. They would always be okay.

~End

_A/N: Thanks for reading! I really do appreciate it! :)_


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